My Funny Valentina (8 page)

‘
I ate at my mother’s house already, Val,’ he’d admitted sending a resigned, weary glance her way across the glass-topped round kitchen table.  And had done so every night, he’d gone on to confess. 

For the past three weeks.
 

‘
Valentina, let me explain…it’s my sister Athina – she’s –’

‘
No!’ She’d jumped up from the table, ‘I don’t want to hear about any of your
damn
sisters – it’s bad enough they’re always crashed here in our house!  Or your mother, Stash, not another word about
any
of them…’ she’d warned, snatching the untouched plate of food from in front of him and dumping it and the china plate she’d served it on, into the trash bin before she’d stalked off to their bedroom. 

‘
Val, wait a minute…’ Stash had sighed, following close behind her down the hallway.  Had unknotted his tie and shouldered out of his dress shirt in their room, while she’d yanked open a dresser drawer with an angry jerk of the handle.  Pulled out her longest, most concealing nightgown, yanking it on over her head covering herself up completely.  Not one inch of surplus skin showing.

He’d
raised a black brow upon viewing it that had asked,
no short babydoll nightie tonight
? 

Valentina
’s surly frown had provided him with her answer in emphatic fashion –
hell no!
Her sour expression further underlining the fact – just in case he’d missed it, that she was in full out,
‘angry-wife’
mode. 

But
her choice of nightwear hadn’t deterred him the least bit.  When she’d slid between the cool crisp sheets of their bed after brushing her teeth and flipping out the lights, she’d collided with Stash’s warm bare flesh that had already beaten her there. 

‘
I’m sorry, Val,’ he’d rasped in her ear pulling her close up against him. ‘I don’t like to see you mad.’ His hands had gone to work to make up for his actions, pushing up the copious flannel folds of her gown and peeling off her
don’t-even-think-about-making-love
granny panties.  Knowing fingers had working their magic between her legs instantly priming her for his possession.  ‘I always want to see you laughing, my funny Valentina,’ he’d groaned when she’d given in finally, weakened once again by her deep unquenchable need of him. 

H
er hand had found him also, surrounded his pulsing, velvety-steel flesh.  Moved over him in the expertly paced strokes that turned him into a shuddering mass of sinewy muscle and bone.  ‘
Valentina!
’ he’d churned out her name from a place somewhere down in his throat, his body rising and levitating over her, his expression the illustrated definition of rampant male need.  Her raised hand had stopped his panting brown chest from lowering.

‘
Er…wait, Stash…I…I think I may have left the burner on the stove on…I want to check, so I can concentrate…just on you...’

‘
Forget it,’ he’d muttered, lips tracing the fine delicate bones of her collarbone, ‘we’ve got insurance and we’ll use our fire extinguisher if we need to.  Let’s get to work on filling one of those bedrooms, Val…’ His rigid erection had probed for entry at the summit of her thighs – almost making her agree – but she’d run dates through her head and persisted.

‘
Stash – let me up for just a minute...’ she’d delivered a series of soft butterfly kisses, long lashes fluttering against his torso making him quiver helpless. ‘I promise I’ll make it
very
worth your while when I get back…’

With a grimace
of frustration, Stash had rolled off her, ‘hurry the hell up, Val!’ – and she’d quickly slid from the bed, pushing her arms through the sleeves of her silken robe before rushing out their bedroom door.  But instead of going to the kitchen to check on the stove, she’d gone into the bathroom in one of the empty bedrooms.  Had opened the medicine cabinet there –
quietly
– unzipped her makeup bag and removed the birth control device she’d been fitted with by her doctor a few weeks ago.  The one she hadn’t told Stash anything about.  The one she’d decided she needed to use – just until things were better between them. 

And
the one she hadn’t needed to tell him about any longer, because when she’d turned around with it still clasped in her hand, Stash had been standing right there in the open doorway of the bathroom, his own terrycloth white robe pulled on, fists thrust deep into the pockets, curls sexily tousled over his forehead.

A
ngry incrimination in those brooding black eyes.

She’d
swallowed hard.  ‘Stash,’ her hand had reached for him, but he’d just turned and walked away.  When she’d gotten back to their bedroom, the journey endless with her feet seeming encased in two cement blocks, he’d already been gone.  Along with the extra blanket and his pillow.   Gone to one of the six remaining empty bedrooms that hadn’t been empty that long night. 

Valentina
hadn’t bothered to get up and make him breakfast the next morning.  Had lain in bed instead, watching the snow falling in a heavy drifting blanket outside the bedroom windows.  A sad expression creeping on her face when she’d remembered it was Valentine’s Day.  The anniversary of their first meeting.  A day designated for contented, blissful lovers.

A
nd they’d been sadly lacking in their house.

When
she’d heard Stash’s sturdy F1 truck pull out of the garage, the rugged vehicle he used on Chicago’s most brutal wintry days to ensure he’d make it into the office or to a far-flung bumpy construction site, she’d risen and made her way to the kitchen.  Drank the remaining coffee left in the pot he’d made for himself taking over the job she usually did each morning.  After she’d downed two cups of the hot, black, sobering liquid, she’d pulled out her dusty Filofax from beneath a pile of sweaters in the spacious walk-in closet of the master suite and dialed Lars at the studio on Canal.

‘
Hello, Lars, it’s me, Valentina Kar – er, Vincetti,’ she’d said in a rush of words, talking quickly.  Before she could change her mind.  After they’d exchanged pleasantries, gotten caught up on the past few years, she’d asked him if he had any jobs for her.  Had told him she was finally ready to go back to work.  Ready to model once again.

~
6~

‘SHE’S ALL BUCKLED
safely in,’ Valentina announced climbing up into the passenger seat of the fully loaded, luxury SUV with newly inserted car seat, slamming the door closed behind her.  ‘We’re ready to go ho –’ 

She cut off the last word abruptly.  They
weren’t going home – home for her and Zoey was a bright, sunny condo in Orange County paid for with her wages working as a receptionist at a prestigious private school there.  It was a perfect arrangement as the school had a nursery as well, where Zoey was allowed to stay for free.  Affording Valentina the invaluable perk of being able to check in on her daughter often.  Running over numerous times on her breaks to where the small children and infants were housed to feed her or just to cuddle and get a whiff of her addictive baby smell.

Stash
glanced in the rear view mirror at his daughter in the back.  A low rumble of laughter rose to his lips watching her antics as she tried repeatedly in vain to grab at a stuffed bear just out of her reach, strapped in as securely as she was, wearing a fluffy pink coat and matching wooly hat with ears that made her look like the world’s most adorable bunny.  ‘She’s stubborn,’ he murmured.

Valentina smiled
.  She poked her head around her leather headrest, reaching back and handing Zoey the bear to her delighted gurgle.  ‘Yes…she’s a lot like you.’  She shifted a look his way quickly, ‘and she looks like you too…’

Stash gave a
nother rough laugh, ‘she’s got my hair, that’s for sure.  But she’s the spitting image of you, Val…absolutely…
beautiful.
’

A
weighted silence fell in the car after his low pronouncement, colored in only by Zoey’s babyish coos as Stash drove at a careful speed over the recently plowed and salted streets, a heavy snowfall drifting down again in the glow of headlights in the inky night sky. It was such a beautiful sight, Valentina thought, staring out the windshield thinking how she had missed this in perpetually sun-drenched California.  So many people dreaded Chicago’s long brutal winters, but she’d always reveled in them – in the stark grandeur of it. 

The s
olemn quiet of a blanket of fresh snow covering everything in sight.   The anticipation of returning home to a roaring fire crackling in the fireplace.  A warm hearty meal cooking in the oven to welcome home chilled, hungry travelers.  Except there hadn’t been a meal waiting that last night in their home.  Valentina kept her head turned carefully away from Stash, her eyes wet, staring out her window at the snow-brushed night unseeingly. 

Re
hashing in her mind that last awful night in their house.  The night she now looked back on with a conflicted mixture of dread and thankfulness as it had also produced their daughter who was still and quiet in the backseat now, having nodded off to sleep with the sudden quickness of infants leaving Valentina free to remember...

Another stormy Valentine’s night – twelve months earlier... 

Thank God, I made it home before Stash!
 

Val
entina pushed back a fur-lined leather glove to peer at the watch on her wrist, so very glad she had made it back to the house by five.  She waved, signaling she was okay to Lars who had dropped her off at the end of the long driveway.  He honked once before his snow-flecked car pulled away from the curb mashing down beneath its sturdy all-weather tires the growing snowdrifts accumulating rapidly under the darkening skies.  Valentina trudged through the drifting snow piling up on the steps leading to the front door, breathing a sigh of relief having not spotting any fresh tire tracks in the driveway
. 

I probably have about an hour
.

A
n hour before Stash made it home from his downtown office in the snarled traffic moving at a snail’s pace on the city’s clogged highways as people tried to make it to their destinations or to crowded stores for supplies before the worst of the coming storm hit.

I’ve got
sixty minutes to shower and change. 

C
hange out of the skimpy costume she’d posed in at the annual prestigious Auto Show held at the convention center.  Lars had been booked to photograph the new models for a luxury brand of crazy expensive autos and knew from long experience, he’d told her when she’d called that morning, ‘having the famed former top-model, Valentina Vincetti, will attract every man there to come over and see what we’re advertising.  Sure, the job is yours, doll, if you want it!’ 

And
her outfit had certainly done the trick. 

A
ttracted a steady stream of men over to their display.  Consisting as it did – or
barely
consisting – of black leather hot pants, fishnet stockings, long thigh-hugging shiny black boots and a silky red halter top sewn in the shape of a heart in tribute to the day.  The four suggestive articles of clothing all had combined to highlight her endless legs and full entrancing cleavage as she’d draped herself in a seductive curve over the sloping hood of a sports car for a series of sexy, provocative poses. 

Sometime midway through the car
show, though, a funny thing had happened.  Valentina had started to become more and more...
uncomfortable.
  Had spotted herself in a side mirror of one of the sleek cars with her hair in gossamer waves of titian, full shiny lips painted scarlet, eyes heavily coated with kohl – and it had felt...
wrong
…having men other than her husband stare at her.  Pass by numerous times,
leering
over her barely covered body. 

She’d
slid down off the car, begged Lars to let her leave early – and he’d surprisingly agreed right away with no argument. ‘The camera always sees the truth and I can see in your eyes, it’s just not in you any more, Val,’ he’d said, ‘come on, I’ll give you a lift home, save you cab fare.’ 

S
he’d quickly accepted, hurriedly thrown on her long down-filled coat to cover herself, not wanting to take time even to stop at the studio on Canal for her clothes, just eager to get back home.  Get back to Stash.  She’d made her decision right then that her marriage was the
only
thing that was important and had told Lars the same on the ride home.  Told him her modeling days were now ‘officially over
’.
 

For good.
 

After fitting her key in the lock
of their swanky upscale home, she entered the spectacular foyer with its twenty-foot high ceilings, fighting to pull the door closed against the whistling blowing winds.  Shaking the last melting flakes of snow off her coat, she hung it in the front closet right next to where Stash always hung his.  Valentina headed down the long hallway towards the master suite, stiletto heels of her boots tapping out her path on the gleaming hardwoods, so looking forward to taking a bracing hot shower to wash off her heavy makeup and changing into jeans and a warm sweater.  Looking forward, also, to burying at the bottom of the trashcan the outfit she wore that now felt tawdry.